


That which is done out of love

by cuneifire (orphan_account)



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cuneifire
Summary: Artemis’ arrow is trained on him, his glowing figure in the distance, illuminated by the light and sun and all things holy.She thinks she should kill him.She thinks she loves him.





	That which is done out of love

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Nietzsche. _‘That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.’_

Artemis takes her promises seriously.

She promised to protect her maidens. She promised to remain chaste. She promised to protect her brother.

She remembers her third vow well. It wasn’t the third one, really. It was the first. The first birth she aided, the first child she’d held in her arms, the first time she’d silently told to herself, ‘I will take care of this one.’

She remembers her second vow too. She doesn’t regret it; she never will.

.

She has seen her brother take many lovers. She has watched them break his heart, one after another. She has watched him fall to the ground and weep, stood stoic and placed a hand on his back and remembers thinking _that will never be me._ She has killed some. She tells herself it was because it was necessary. She does not believe in lying to herself, so she takes that for truth.

She too had loved, once. Orion still hangs in the sky; she cannot look to the stars without a pang of regret stabbing her straight through the chest. It is in those moments that she thinks she understands Apollo.

It is in those moments she hates him most, too. Because if he knew this pain so well, why would he choose to inflict it on her?

.

She does not believe her brother to be cruel. She cannot believe her brother to be cruel; she knows such is the way of gods, but her brother is not Zeus, or Poseidon. He is reckless, impulsive, perhaps; but she has reminded him that he is not invincible, that he cannot take maidens as he so pleases.

She thinks this sometimes, when her eyes are screwed shut under her tent with the thought of how he’d dared her, challenged her to shoot Orion, tossed her a grin that shone like the entity he ruled. He kept his expression casual, teasing even as she shot the only mortal man she’d ever love.

.

She rises from her slumber like her moon from the darkness, tosses herself to her feet and shrugs the tension from her bones. It is night now; her time. He will not be there, he will not be watching. They say all under the sun is Apollo’s domain. They forget to say the rest is hers.

She breaks into a run, barefoot with only a quiver and a bow and a chiton. She stops suddenly when she arrives at the river.

She is struck with the sudden thought that she needs to be purified, and slides into the freezing stream with a sigh.

It doesn't occur to her precisely why she thought such until her shoulders are dipping, shivering, under the river’s surface, until she dunks her head into the purifying stream and her thoughts are cleared.

It’s then she remembers why she had run to the river in the first place, the heat that fills her chest when she closes her eyes and sees her brother smiling, laughing, digging a knife gladly into her back. The way his hands curl around the blade.

He’s going to kill her.

Artemis decides she needs to kill him first.

.

It’s dawn, the moment where her realm fades to his. She has stepped out of her chariot, let the silver whips fall to the ground and glimmer among the fading moonlight, traded the chariot for her arrows, nocked and trained on the shimmering mirage of bright yellow in the distance.

Artemis knows gods do not die. Not by other god’s hands, and not without being cast to Tartarus.

But they can be hurt.

And they can be heartbroken.

She trains her arrow on him, his glowing figure in the distance, illuminated by the light and sun and all things holy.

She thinks she should kill him.

She thinks she loves him.

She pulls back her arrow, focusing. She does not miss.

Pull the string back, take in a deep breath of the forest's clear air,-

The bow clatters to the floor.

She falls alongside it.

.

And here, when she stands at Olympus, where a forest once was, she thinks she understands. Why Apollo does not give up- on love, on heartbreak.

Artemis glances to her brother. He is the one who brought her here, asked of her presence- and for once, she could not bring herself to refuse.

Her heart curls in love at the sight of him- the same love she’s always felt for him. It took her awhile to realize that was not the type of love one held for simply a sibling.

She would not give it up.

She meets her brother’s gaze from across the throne room, keeps her gaze steady. Her heartbeat, that is another matter.

She thinks she comprehends it now, in some twisted way, why he killed Orion. He knows loving a mortal is heartbreak wrapped with a beautiful bow- perhaps he thought it was his duty to save her from that.

The thought makes her boil with rage, but she keeps a cap on it. This is Olympus, height of the _civilized_ gods, among whom her brother claims to be. She will not disturb that, this momentary illusion of peace. But the resentment brews in her heart; she will tell him at some point, by blood or sword or disillusioned word.

But there’s a second reason she does not exact her vengeance; the one where she curses Aphrodite and twists her hands into fists due to, the one she does not say.

She does not think of that one.

She does not.


End file.
